


You Won't But You Might

by DefaltManifesto



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Male Friendship, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Shock, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve’s nightmares come in the day, a shadow in the corner of his eye, a crack in the wall, and the flicker of a dying classroom light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Won't But You Might

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maeofthedead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeofthedead/gifts).



> I swear I am working on my X-men fic, I'm just having a lot of Stranger Things feelings. Also this was supposed to be a PWP. Things never turn into what I plan. I do eventually plan on writing a Steve/Johnathan fic tho. Just you wait. Comments are loved! Gifted to maeofthedead for geeking with me about our Will Byers feelings. Title from Between the Bars by Elliott Smith.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

When he shuts his eyes at night, all he sees is darkness which is more soothing than the light of day because at least alone in his room he can pretend that he’s entirely in control. With Nancy, he’s almost more on edge. It’s not her fault; she’s been nothing but understanding. She’s a steady pillar of strength to draw on when all he wants to do is flee and withdraw. But she’s hurting too and her moments of weakness are wild and unpredictable, nails biting into his arms as she cries and shakes apart. He’s overwhelmed by her grief for Barbara. He holds her and sneaks to her room whenever she asks.

She craves his presence when she aches.

He longs for silence.

Eventually, she realizes what she’s doing because she’s Nancy and she’s perceptive, able to read his mind in his actions and lying words. She still holds his hand in the hall but at night, it’s Johnathan she goes to. He watches as she gets better, truly better instead of just a carefully placed mask.

And Steve just gets worse. His mask grows stronger so that even Nancy starts to think he’s okay. His waking nightmares invade the peace that is his time at night, alone in his room with nothing but himself to control. He wakes in the night and the shadow of his closet holds a Demogorgon. It never moves and he knows if he left his bed, he’d walk right through it. It’s just a hallucination. Knowing it doesn’t make it better though. He locks up the fear, holds Nancy’s hand, smiles at her parents, and ignores the breath of the Demogorgon at the back of his neck.

 

-.-

 

“You’re not fooling her you know.”

Steve looks up across the lunch table to see Johnathan. Nancy’s out sick and without her to tie the three of them together, he’s surprised Johnathan even sat with them even though it’s been weeks since he’s talked to Tommy or Carol.

"What?” Steve asks after a beat too long.

Johnathan’s shoulders hunch forward as he pulls his usual sandwich out of a brown paper bag. “You and my brother both do it. You have these…looks. You’re too normal. You’re too okay.”

“Well, I don’t know shit about your brother, but I’m fine,” Steve says, words light as he twirls a fry and then pops it into his mouth. His eyes flick to the corner of the room. The Demogorgon tilts its mutated head to the side and Steve feels the fry travel all the way down to the bottom of his stomach.

"Except you sometimes stare off into space and look like you’re back in that hallway,” Johnathan says, voice low. “You think we don’t notice, but we do.”

"Yeah, well, seeing as how I didn’t go through the amount of crap that Little Byers did, I think you should be more worried about him,” Steve says, eyes still locked on the Demogorgon. It doesn’t move again.

“I can’t fix my brother.”

Steve’s eyes snap back to Johnathan’s face, a cruel and comfortable smirk finding his lips. “And what? You want to fix me? Like you fixed Nancy?” The words taste bitter.

Johnathan shakes his head. “Nancy fixed herself. I just supported her.”

 _Like you couldn’t._ It goes unsaid but the words still ring in Steve’s ears.

“Congratulations. You’re a better boyfriend than me,” Steve says as he gets to his feet.

“It’s not a competition.”

Steve doesn’t dignify Johnathan’s words with a response. He dumps his mostly full tray in the trash and walks to class, wondering if Nancy will ever decide Steve is too much and leave him for the person who can actually help and support her. All Steve amounts to is a drain, swallowing people’s energy and letting it flow away into a waste.

 

-.-

 

Johnathan wakes him by hanging from the roof and kicking his window. Steve rolls out of bed and opens the window before Johnathan can accidentally fall to his death and when he turns back towards his room, the Demogorgon is on the move. Johnathan says something but it’s all white noise as the Demogorgon lurches and creaks closer. Steve’s arm instinctively flies out to stop Johnathan from moving into the danger he can’t see.

“Steve-“

Steve twists, hands clutching at Johnathan’s jacket as he turns his back on the Demogorgon and places himself between them. He’s not sure what he’s attempting to accomplish. Johnathan looks confused, then scared when his eyes meet Steve’s. The clench of Steve’s jaw unhinges as a sudden chill washes over him, locking his joints and freezing his muscles as it crawls through him.

It leaves just as quickly as it comes. Steve’s limbs turn to jelly and he slumps into Johnathan, who barely holds them upright after nearly going through the open window. Steve wants to apologize, explain, _anything_ , but all he can do is shake. His brain feels…it _feels,_ so much that he can’t coordinate a single thought or action. Cursing under his breath all the while, Johnathan manages to half-carry, half-drag Steve over to his bed, dropping him on it before grabbing the lamplight t bathe the room in a soft glow.

Johnathan shrugs out of his jacket and then crawls onto the bed next to Steve. “I’m going to hold you now.”

Steve closes his eyes, bracing himself. When Johnathan curls against him though, it’s a relief, the warmth of his body bleeding through their clothes and warming Steve’s previously frozen muscles. His breath leaves his chest in a rush and he sucks another one in. Cool air fills his lungs expanding and contracting and the way Johnathan’s arm holds him close to his body. The first thought that enters Steve’s head is whether or not Johnathan holds Nancy like this.

"Sometimes,” Johnathan says against the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong with me?” Steve asks, eyes opening to stare out his window at the woods.

“I think it’s shock. You’re pale and shaking,” Johnathan says. “As for why…I don’t know.”

“Demogorgon,” Steve says, his thoughts still not quite stringing together properly.

“What about it?” Johnathan’s thumb rubs against Steve’s sternum. It feels nice.

“I see it. It was moving towards us and then it…walked into me.” His voice doesn’t sound like his own, somehow detached, the words foreign in his mouth.

“So you’re hallucinating.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

Steve lets his eyes slide shut again. “I…want to sleep.”

“I can go. I wanted to talk. Help. But if you need to be alone I can-“

Steve holds Johnathan’s hand to his chest, actions easier than words. Johnathan sighs and relaxes against him. He’s asleep in minutes and Steve stays awake through almost the whole night.

 

-.-

 

When Steve wakes, managing only to grab a brief twenty-minute nap, Johnathan is still a deadweight against his back. Steve shoves him away, unable to help a small smile when Johnathan mumbles his name and curls his arms around Steve’s pillow before going limp again. The Demogorgon stands in his shower while Steve brushes his teeth. He watches it through the mirror but it never moves.

Johnathan’s sitting up in his bed when Steve gets back to his room and Steve steps around the Demogorgon that stands at the foot of his bed as he makes his way to the empty side. Neither of them say anything. Steve watches Johnathan’s fingers play with a hole in the knee of his jeans. He wants to say something, explain away his bizarre behavior with a well-crafted lie, but for the first time in his life, there’s no way to deflect. For once, someone actually knows there’s something wrong and cares enough to dig.

"Is it still here?” Johnathan asks. “You keep…looking.”

"Yeah,” Steve says. “It’s not moving now.”

“When did you start seeing it?” Johnathan asks, leaning forward on his knees. He doesn’t look at Steve, and Steve can’t help but wonder if Johnathan’s as out of his depth as Steve is.

“A little after Nancy started going to you for help.”

“You do know we’re not…she’s not cheating on you with me or something,” Johnathan says. “It’s not like that.”

“I know.” Steve stares at his lap. “She should though. I’m not any good for her.”

“She doesn’t think so. She wants to help but she doesn’t know how because you never really say what’s wrong. Not really,” Johnathan says.

"Is that what you two do? Gossip about me?” Steve asks, but the heated anger in his voice is forced and Johnathan gives him an unimpressed look.

"Why do you do that?”

Steve frowns. “What?”

"Deflect,” Johnathan says. “You can’t be that repressed.”

“Like you aren’t?” Steve shoots back. He gets to his feet and goes to stand by the window, desperately needing some space between them.

“Not really, no,” Johnathan says. “If I ignored what I felt, I’d have turned into my dad a long time ago.” Silence stretches between them for a few more painful seconds before Johnathan continues, much quieter. “For some reason, people think not being a repressed dickbag is a bad thing. People’ve always treated Will like shit for it.”

“That’s because it’s…” The words die in his mouth when he looks at Johnathan.

Johnathan stares back at him with an expectant look on his face and a bitter twist to his lips. “Because it’s what? Gay?” He shakes his head. “Nancy says you’ve changed. And I want to be nice and put all that shit behind us but then you stay stupid shit like that and sound just like the people who’ve spent their whole lives fucking with me and Will.”

"Sorry, it’s kind of how I was raised.”

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” Johnathan says. “You made it seem like you were going to try and change.”

“I am!” Steve takes a deep breath, trying to his nerves. The Demogorgon tils its head to the side, a grotesque parody of concern. “Sorry I don’t have the patience for a nuanced discussion about masculinity and feelings when I’m hallucinating about a dumb fucking monster that likes to hang out in my closet!”

Johnathan opens his mouth to react before closing it again, thinking over his words. “Yeah. Okay. Priorities. We’re coming back to this though.”

Steve flails his hands in something approximating a dismissive gesture. “Fine.”

“But…do you think maybe this…hallucination might be because you _are_ repressing all of this?” Johnathan asks, but he’s no longer meeting Steve’s eyes.

“What do you mean all of this?” The panicked edge of his own voice is unexpected. He folds his arms over his chest and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Trauma,” Johnathan says.

“It’s not…I’m not… _traumatized_ ,” Steve says. He can’t even make it sound convincing to himself.

When Johnathan laughs, it sounds tired. “So what do you call hallucinating so much it sends you into shock?”

Steve swallows, heart pounding. “I can’t be.”

Johnathan raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because…” Steve doesn’t have an answer, at least not an answer that doesn’t make him sound like a dick. Nancy had been traumatized, and still is honestly because Steve isn’t sure she’ll ever sleep well or deeply again. And he doesn’t look down at her. It’s a totally normal reaction. He has no doubt Johnathan struggles too. That much is obvious from the bags under his eyes and the bat he keeps under his bed that Nancy told him about. Still, applying the word to himself… “It’s not right.”

"You’ve completely lost me,” Johnathan says. “I’m fucked up by what happened and so is Nancy. How is it not right that you would be too?”

Steve opens his mouth but he doesn’t have the words to articulate the ugly feeling in his chest that’s always been there but never this close to the surface. He sits down on the windowsill and lets his arms fall to his sides as he looks at Johnathan. “I don’t know how to describe it. No one’s ever asked me to but the feeling has been there my whole life.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say, or how you think I can help when that’s all I have to go on,” Johnathan says after a moment.

“Well I didn’t actually ask for your help.”

The Demogorgon’s head tilts back to center and it lurches towards the bed.

“Why didn’t you?”

Steve looks away from the Demogorgon as Johnathan gets off the bed and steps towards him. “Why didn’t I what? Ask for help?”

“Yeah.” His gaze is too much for Steve to try and meet.

“Because…” Steve stares at the Demogorgon as it lurks by the edge of his bed. “I’m not you or Nancy. I don’t…” He wants Johnathan to finish the sentence. He doesn’t want to admit out loud to himself. He wants the distance of another person saying it because at least then he can pretend it’s what someone else thinks of him instead of what he thinks of himself.

Johnathan doesn’t give him that luxury. He waits, silently, standing a foot away as Steve stares stubbornly at the Demogorgon which is somehow easier than dealing with the reality Johnathan wants him to confront. The flaps that make up the Demogorgon’s distorted face open as the words finally spill out of him, quiet and hushed.

“I don’t deserve anyone’s help.”

A beat of silence passes between them, the air heavy with the words. Then Steve is forced to look away from the Demogorgon as Johnathan hauls him upright by the front of his shirt. He looks angry, and despite everything, Steve expects Johnathan to snap and hit him. A sick and twisted part of him longs for it. But Johnathan just…hugs him. His arms crush Steve’s body close, like he’s trying to squeeze the breath from Steve’s lungs, and yet it’s the most comforting thing Steve can ever remember feeling.

There’s no Demogorgon standing behind them when Steve looks. Steve stares and stares, but for the first time in weeks, there’s no Demogorgon hovering in his sightline like a permanent watermark in his eye. He wraps his shaking arms around Johnathan’s rail thin body. He wonders if Johnathan lost as much weight as he has as he clings to him and squeezes his eyes shut tight.

“You’re a god damn idiot Steve Harrington,” Johnathan says, his voice a strained whisper against Steve’s ear. “You deserve to be okay, just like the rest of us.”

Steve wants to believe him.

He really does.


End file.
